


Lost in Blood

by LittleBlueArtist



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Eventual Smut, M/M, Rating will change, SHEITH - Freeform, Trans Character, Trans!Keith, trans keith
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-10-27 04:12:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10801443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleBlueArtist/pseuds/LittleBlueArtist
Summary: Keith Kogane is seventeen years old, and unlike every other teen, he doesn't read comics in his spare time and fail math. Instead, he slays vampires and still fails math. After burning down the gym at his old school, Keith and his mother move to Altea, California, where everything is a fresh start. Well, as fresh as it can get when you're the Chosen One.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! If you couldn't tell, this is the Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU no one asked for. I love Buffy, and I love Sheith, so why not combine them? Well, I went ahead and did it. I hope you all enjoy!!

Keith walked down the dark streets of this new town. Boxes laid unpacked in his room, and his mother was setting up her new gallery space. Really, there were more important things to do, but walking always cleared his head. The roads here were devoid of light. The streetlamps bled into the trees that covered them and gave only flickers of illumination. For the most part, the streets were just bare and empty. Nothing to worry about, and certainly nothing to tense up about. Keith cursed himself for doing so and forced himself to calm down.

His house was on a safe street, which was more than he could say for his small apartment in Los Angeles. Here, in Altea, things were so much different. He could walk the streets without fear, and he could be out after sundown without wondering how far away those gunshots were. Hell, he had a _house_ here, and it cost multitudes less than the dingy apartment he and his mom shared in L.A. Things here were peaceful, and that made Keith smile for the first time in ages.

When he turned the corner, the smile dropped. The darkness that had seemed so peaceful the second before became menacing and evil, swirling around him until he saw the monsters that plagued his dreams. "Come out!" he yelled, stake sliding down his sleeve and into his hand. It fit easily in his palm. It felt familiar. Comfortable. "I don't feel like playing games tonight. Show yourself."

A twig snapped behind him, and he knew whatever was following him would only make noise on purpose. He swiveled around and swung his feet, effectively taking that person to the ground, and quickly straddled them. One arm was on their throat, and the other had a stake poised at their chest, digging in just the slightest. "Why are you following me." It came out as a growl more than a question.

The man under Keith smiled. He flipped them, and Keith pushed off, quickly doing a back roll to get on his feet again. He didn't want to take his eyes off this guy for a second. He held his hands up, stake in one, and put himself in a fighting stance. "I won't ask again." 

"The name's Shiro. Don't worry, I didn't come to fight you." Shiro held his hands up, that easy smile never fading. 

Keith didn't move. "It's late, I'm tired, and now I'm angry. You have five seconds before I start fighting, whether you came here for it or not."

"I'm a friend, Slayer." He grabbed something out of his coat pocket and threw it. 

On instinct, Keith caught it. He looked down at the dark blue velvet box that laid in his hands. He opened it, and inside, sitting atop the plush, was a silver necklace bearing a cross. He scoffed and snapped the case closed, looking up with annoyance written in bold over his face. But Shiro was gone, and nothing was left in his wake.

Keith sighed and started the walk home, looking at the cross before him. It was pretty, and expensive. The cross itself was small enough he could enclose it within his palm. He knew the cross hurt vampires. It was the easiest thing to defend yourself with. He also knew the more you believed in it, the more power it had. He couldn't believe in it enough to make it burn flesh, but it warded vamps off well enough. He believed in the pointy wooden stick in his hand more, or a nice big ax. 

The fourth house on the block came into view, and Keith stepped onto the pathway. His new home had an actual porch, and he couldn't help but smile when he stood on it. Even in the dark he could see their welcome mat closely. It was the first thing they purchased for the new place. A porch! A porch where they would put out patio furniture and cushions and a blanket for when it got colder. These small things gave him more joy than he liked to admit. 

The key turned smoothly in the lock as he went inside, putting the jewelry box in his pocket before calling out, "Mom! I'm home!"

He heard a bang in the kitchen and then a crash. "In here! Can you get the broom?"

Keith smiled and grabbed the broom and dustpan, walking into the kitchen and looking for the mess. By Kalena's feet sat a shattered wine glass. One that she had gotten from a dollar store when they visited Texas. At least it wasn't the one from Italy. He bent down and started sweeping it up. "You okay?"

She huffed and put a box on the counter. It had _Fragile_ stamped on it in big, bold letters. "I'm fine. It just slipped. Thanks for cleaning it up, honey."

He dumped the shards in the garbage. First broken glass of the new home. It felt symbolic. "No problem. It's getting late. Your gallery opens tomorrow, I have my first day of school. Why don't we both get some rest, okay?"

Kalena nodded and closed the box she was working on. "Yeah, that sounds like a good decision. I'll see you in the morning, Keith."

"Get a good night's rest, Mom." He watched her make her way up the stairs and then went back to the box. His mother owned a wine gallery and had one of the best collections in all of California. One of the factors of moving to Altea was the space she had been offered. It was beautiful and a quarter of the price of her place in L.A. Keith was happy his mom could have the store she always wanted, and the target she had always hoped for. Los Angeles was never the place they were meant to stay. It was full of bad memories and burning gyms.

Yep, that was the other deciding factor in moving to this town. Keith had burned down the gym, and no matter how much he wanted to tell everyone why, he had to sit back and be expelled. Altean High was the only place that would take him. At least it worked out for everyone. 

The box on the kitchen table was heavy. It weighed probably fifty pounds with all the glass in it. No wonder Kalena had trouble lifting it. Keith picked up like it was nothing. It felt like nothing. Sometimes, he forgot just how strong he was compared to a normal human. He forgot how to hide it from time to time, leading to the excuse of _I've been working out, Mom_ being used more than once.

He finished packing away the different wine glasses, putting the one from Italy up front. It was his mother's favorite. It was stemless, and had a beautiful painting on it. Almost all the ones she purchased for her home collection had some handmade detail to it. Keith's favorite was one they picked up in Chicago. It had the skyline painted on it, and if you turned it just so, it looked like the lights were almost twinkling. 

Breaking down the box and putting it with the pile, Keith took a deep breath, and went to his room. His new bedroom was the size of his old living room. The bed laid against one wall, his desk next to it, and his bookcases lined themselves up on the wall opposite. Dragging the books around had been a pain, but they looked so...peaceful where they were. They didn't look crammed or stuffed in. For once, he had a space for them all. 

He went over to the trunk at the end of his bed and opened it, taking out the false bottom and sliding the stake out of his sleeve once more and into the opened space. Inside held all of the important slayage tools. Stakes, crosses, holy water, a sword. You know, the essentials. He took off his jacket and reached into the pocket, once more looking at the necklace Shiro had given him. A cross. He knew that Keith was the Slayer. He knew where to find him. He had _followed_ him. Was he really a friend?

"No harm a cross can do to me, anyway," he muttered, putting the necklace on himself. It rested right above his chest. He climbed into bed, pulling the new covers over himself. Finally rid of the old Batman sheets, these ones were a nice sky blue. They felt soft on his skin. He tucked himself in and rolled on his side, turning out the lamp light.

"First day tomorrow," he sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "Gym, please don't be full of vampires. Amen." With that pseudo-prayer, Keith Kogane fell asleep.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter is up!! I hope you guys enjoy.

The doors to Altean High were propped open with cinder blocks, letting the California heat flood the school. It was nice out. Sun shining, birds chirping, the sound of laughing students in the courtyard. It was a good day. 

Keith slammed the door to his mother's car and waved goodbye to her before climbing the steps into the high school. A stream of kids followed him and it was a struggle to break away from the crowd. He finally found himself in front of his first class, and stepped in right as the bell rang. That new student anxiety flushed over him as everyone's eyes flew towards him. Every head in his English class was turned right to him. His stomach rolled.

The teacher, a short and stout woman, smiled at him. "Hello! You must be Keith. I'm Mrs. Dowd. Everyone, we have a new student. Say hello to him."

The class let out an unenthusiastic, "Hello, Keith," before the teacher scooted him towards the only remaining empty seat. It was in front of a larger boy and a small girl. Keith tentatively sat down, setting his bag on the ground and pulling out a notebook. The teacher continued on about Hamlet, the Shakespeare book of the year. 

Keith felt a tap on his back and flinched, curling his fingers so he wouldn't react. He didn't do well with people sneaking up on him. He turned around, black hair falling slightly into his face. The person behind him was smiling. It seemed friendly. Inviting. Keith wanted to trust it.

The boy held his hand out. "Hi! I'm Hunk. Next to you is Pidge. Welcome to Altea, Keith."

"Wasn't expecting a welcome crew." 

"We're kind of unofficial."

"So, unofficial welcome crew, you get your own club room?"

Pidge turned towards them, her hair in a small ponytail. She was dressed in cargo shorts and a long sleeved shirt. Keith wondered how she didn't die from heat exhaustion. It was inching near eighty-five degrees, and he was hot in his tank top and skinny jeans. "If you count the library. No one's ever in there, with computers being the new age and all."

"You should talk. Computers are your entire life," Hunk joked back, a smile covering his face. Keith had a feeling it wasn't ever off his lips for long.

Pidge ignored him entirely and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk. "I'm Pidge. Resident genius. Contact me if you ever need your grades changed. I don't get caught."

Before Keith could get another word out, the bell rang. He left the two at the doorway and walked towards the apparently always empty library. The doors to it looked older than the rest of the school. Aged, somehow. They creaked as Keith pushed them open. The inside, for how much it was unused by the student body, was quite large. More bookcases than he could imagine lined the back walls and a set of stairs looked like it went deeper into the stacks. 

The restricted section was blocked off with a gate that had a sturdy lock on it. Keith guessed it had rare editions in it. Like those books you can only read in the library and can't check out. He shrugged and went over to the checkout counter. It stood next to the door and led into an office. It looked cluttered. At least ten books were scattered on the desk, from what Keith could see through the window. He rang the little bell. "Uh, hello? Anyone here?"

A crash came from behind the counter and Keith jumped a little, slightly peeking over the edge. A young and sprite man came rushing up, and almost bashed Keith in the nose. He had bright orange hair and a mustache that looked like it belonged in the forties. "Hello! I'm Coran, the local librarian. You must be the new student. I was just getting things ready for you!"

"Oh, uh, this school is friendly."

"Yes, indeed!" He smiled, and had some sort of accent Keith couldn't place. Instead of telling him where the textbooks were, Coran plopped a heavy book on the desk. The dust flew up and made Keith cough a little. "I believe this is the book you're looking for. Right here and waitin' for ya!"

The book stared at Keith. Its pages made his heart race. "I-I'm not into the supernatural. And I'm definitely not into the vampire genre. I w-was just looking for my math textbook. Algebra 2?"

Coran looked down at the book, then back at Keith, and then back at the book. He pulled it off the counter with a frown on his face. "Oh. Well, textbooks are in the back." Except, when Coran looked up, Keith was gone, the door swinging behind him.

***

Keith didn't stop running until he bumped into someone. It rammed them both to the ground. His bag fell open and everything in it scattered. Of course. Of course on the first day someone already sees a stake in his bag. "S-sorry about that. Here, I'll clean up. Sorry." The anxiety rolled low in his stomach and he could feel his hands shake slightly as he shoved the stake back in his bag, effectively giving himself a splinter. Great.

The man before him looked up, his hands holding Keith's notebooks. "It was my fault. Here, I think these are yours. I'm Lance, by the way. You're the new guy, right?"

"Boy, news travels fast around here."

Lance smiled and stood, taking Keith with him. He was gorgeous. The sunlight that hit his skin seemed to illuminate it. "There's not a lot of news in Altea, so we kind of jump on any of it we can get."

"Right. Well, um, do you know the way to Mr. Turner's class?"

"Yeah, just follow me. You're from L.A., right?"

Keith dodged the elbow of a student in front of him and caught up with Lance, hurriedly shoving his notebooks back into his bag. "Born and raised. Altea is nice, though. I like it."

"Well, let me give you the tour tonight. Stop by the Garrison at, say, eight?"

"The Garrison?"

"Yeah, it's the only club in Altea. They don't card, either, but as long as you don't drunk drive the police look the other way. It's kind of in the bad part of town, though, so be careful."

"Really? Where is it?"

Lance stopped in front of an open doorway and swept his arm in, signaling that this was the class Keith was looking for. "Oh, about two blocks away from the good part. We don't have a whole lot of town here."

"Thanks for showing me to class. I'll... I'll see you at the Garrison tonight." 

Lance nodded and Keith walked into the classroom. At least the joys of school hadn't changed. The same boring classes with the same boring teachers. By the time the final bell rang, Keith had already fallen into his old routine. He would go home, shove his backpack into the darkest corner of the room, and then do his homework five minutes before it was due. Worked every time.

It was getting close to winter, so by the time he had inhaled a sandwich for the lunch he never ate, it was already sunset. Keith sighed and grabbed his night bag. Might as well patrol before he spent a night having fun. If fun was even possible. The word _fun_ was so far out of his reach it was Australia. 

Even on a Monday night, he saw a few people clearly going towards the club as he walked down the streets of Altea. No one had died that night, so if there was anything to slay, it would be out and about with everyone else, trying to blend in with their 2005 fashion. He passed the cemetery, which was bigger than he was comfortable with for such a small town. 

He was a block away from the Garrison, wearing a bright red hat that practically said _come bite me_ , and standing in the darkest alley he could find, when the feeling came. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. He turned just in time for someone to punch him in the face. 

"Hey, come on, I have to show up somewhere tonight." He moved his jaw a little and stood back up, twirling the stake in his hand. "Though, I can't say the same for you."

The vampire before him growled, her hair blending in with the dark of her outfit. "Slayer."

"Slayee."

The fight was short lived. One spinning kick there, a punch here, and then a stake to the heart. Really, everything was routine now. He just hoped it would be more than two days before a vampire showed up. He guessed it was that hope that kicked him into the open dumpster. "Great," he muttered, picking a banana peel off himself. "Smelling like garbage on the first outing. Fantastic."

"Need some help?"

"Only if you have a portable washing machine." Keith took the hand extended towards him anyway. It felt callous and soft at the same time. He shouldn't trust this Shiro person, he knew, but that smile twisted something in his gut that he couldn't ignore. The smile he stared at now made it feel like a thousand butterflies were flapping around in his stomach. 

"Sorry. Fresh out of those." Shiro hoisted him out with surprising strength, but considering the size of his arms, Keith didn't worry too much about it.

He did, however, worry about the fact that Shiro had found him twice, and both of those times had been at night. He worried about the fact that Shiro hadn't touched the cross itself, but the box instead. So, when he landed on the ground, he kicked Shiro in the abdomen and back into the wall, digging the stake into his chest. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't dust you," he snarled. He didn't like to be toyed with.

"I was hoping it would take you a little longer to figure it out." That smooth, easy-going voice never wavered. He was never unsure of himself. For some reason, that made Keith angry.

"You've only come to me at night. I think I have my reasons to find that suspicious."

Shiro held his hands up, gently taking the stake off himself and moving off the wall. "I'm here to help, Slayer. I came to warn you. Something is—"

A scream cut him off. Keith wasted no time going towards it. It was in the back alley of the Garrison, and of course, it was Lance. Lance with his beautiful skin that was now getting punctured by two sharp canines. "Hey! Buddy! That's my almost-friend you're feeding from!" 

Keith took a shoulder and pulled, taking the vamp off Lance. "Lance, get inside! Now!" he yelled. The boy was holding his neck and looking at Keith like he had grown another head. Understandable. But he couldn't focus on that right now. He had to focus on killing the thing in front of him. 

He managed to keep the fight short, just like the last one, only sustaining three hits and one throw to the ground. The dust covered him. Now, he smelled like garbage _and_ he looked like someone had clapped chalkboard erasers all over him. Keith just dusted himself off and went to the door, coming in when three people were headed out. 

Hunk nearly barreled into him, but he managed to keep both of them upright. "Hunk? What're you doing here?"

"I don't know, Keith. It's probably something to do with the fact that my boyfriend has two little holes in his neck."

"B-boyfriend? You and Lance? Did not see that coming." He raised his eyebrows and shoved his hands in his pockets. His eyes landed on Pidge putting a bandage over Lance's neck. Why she kept a medical kit on her, he  didn't want to know.

"You have _a lot_ of explaining to do," Pidge said to him, her deft fingers working quickly to put tape over the bandage. It was still bleeding. The blood stained the cotton almost immediately.

"Yeah, like why did that guy bite me! What the hell was he on?" Lance grumbled, putting the last of the tape on himself. "I'm gonna have a blast explaining this to my mom."

"Ok, um, I d-didn't mean to bring all of you into this. Lance you were... That guy wasn't on anything. He was a vampire. I killed him. That's what I do. I was chosen to slay the forces of evil in this world, the ones humans can't explain. Every generation, one is chosen, and that's me. So, he was a vampire. Him, force of evil. Me, Slayer. Kind of my job. Except I don't get vacation time. Or paid." It felt good for once to get everything out. He had never told anyone about his other life. In L.A., he got labeled a troubled child for falling asleep in class and missing tests and fighting off campus. No one went within five feet of him. He had hoped, just a little, that this time it would be different.

"So...what? You're some kind of...of vampire slayer?" Lance asked. The words stumbled out of his mouth like he couldn't decide what to say. He still looked a little shaken, and he was paler than usual. The vamp must have taken more blood than what was Kosher. Any longer and he might've been dead.

"Keith Kogane, your resident vampire slayer. That's me." He felt a little winded and out of breath, like he had been talking a mile a minute for an hour. He was nervous. He was scared. He had never told anyone before.

Pidge smiled, packing away her first-aid kit back into her bag. She had a rucksack on her, and from the wear and tear of the thing, Keith guessed it never left her side. "Hunk, you owe me ten bucks." Her smile was more menacing than anything else. She looked like she could do some real damage if she wanted to. 

Hunk sighed but pulled out his wallet, taking a ten out of it. "Pidge, this is hardly the time."

"You're the one who started the bet! Besides, I so knew I would win."

Keith held his hands up, completely flabbergasted. "Wait, what?! You guys have a _bet_? A bet on what? What the hell?"

Hunk put his wallet back in his pocket and turned to explain, while Pidge helped Lance up. "Pidge and I have been tracking supernatural activity in Altea. There's a lot of it. We think there's something surrounding the town that draws non-human things here. Pidge guessed that if there's things stronger than us on the other side, the universe would balance out, and create something stronger than us on our side. I called bullshit. She was right."

Pidge laughed and handed Lance off to Hunk, putting the money in her back pocket. "When will you guys learn? I'm _always_ right." 

"You think this is some kind of game? That what, I've come to save the day? I came here to get away from this crap, not put myself in the middle of it. Do you know what people like me do, Pidge? Do you know what happens to my line of heritage, Hunk? Do you?!" He felt just so _angry_. He felt angry that these three could fuck around with this type of thing. It bubbled up inside of him and burned him from the inside out. How dare they make a joke out of this. How dare they joke about the world he had to fight in. They got to go home to their nice little beds and lock the doors. He didn't, and he hadn't for years.

"Keith, we—" It was Lance, who could finally stand on his own again. He looked guilty, even though he hadn't been part of the bet, he had associated with it. He had laughed along with the rest of them.

"They die! I was born to die, and after me will come another. Another Slayer meant to handle this shit. You guys don't understand. Every _generation_ , a new Slayer is born. There's a reason why it's not every lifetime. We don't live long enough to get old."

"Keith, we didn't know." It was Pidge this time. She looked honestly guilty. She looked like she was going to reach out to him, but held herself back. "I'm sorry."

Keith dusted himself off once more, getting the last of the vampire off him. "Yeah, whatever. I'll see you tomorrow." 

He walked away, shoving the hurt faces of his maybe-almost-could-be friends out of his mind.

He had hoped that this time, it would be different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, kudos/comments are appreciated! Thank you so much for your support!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late! I was at a con this weekend and had no wifi in my hotel ;A; But here you go so I hope you enjoy!!!!!

Night in Altea came quickly. The air cooled, people stayed inside, and the ones who dared to be out stood in groups. Even regular people here seemed to sense something. That this place was more dangerous than it should be. Keith cursed himself for not seeing it until someone pointed it out to him. Yet, since he had moved, no one had died. There had been no casualties, and no new monsters lurking about. There was a lull.

He sat in a swing at the local park, letting his body slump. His fingers twirled the stake around like one would a pen, letting the edge dig into his skin with just a little too much pressure. The swing moaned under his weight as he swung his legs. He was surprised the whole thing didn't come crashing down on him. How ironic would that be? If the next Slayer were called upon because of a creaky swing set. 

"Slow night?"

"You have to stop sneaking up on me like that."

"What can I say? It's in my nature." He sat down on a swing next to Keith. They didn't even look at each other.

Keith had managed to avoid Hunk, Pidge, and Lance in school. The only way to do so, was to pretend he was busy every time one of them came up to him. It mostly included reading what looked like old texts. So, he ended up reading a bunch of old texts. Namely, the old Watcher's diaries. He had been gifted them when he left L.A. And by gifted, it meant he stole them before the police could take them for evidence. He had a lot to read in those diaries, and even more to learn. "I read about you, Kuro."

Shiro laughed, but it wasn't happy this time. It was bitter, and cold. His jaw tensed. His fingers clenched so hard against the chain of the swing Keith thought it would snap. "So? Tell me about myself."

"You terrorized Japan in 1802. Killed nearly an entire village. Then, you disappear for almost fifty years. No one has record of you again, until 1848, in Europe. You tortured a girl, a witch. You killed her family, her pets, her children. You killed everyone she said hi to. But you forgot one. Her uncle, who had been hidden away doing dark magic. When he heard about her death, and the state she was found in, he got angry. So angry, that he managed to cast a curse on you. He gave you back your soul, so you could pay penance for what you've done. That's what the legends say, anyway."

Shiro turned away, not saying anything for a moment. He looked like he wanted to run off, go back to the trees in which he came from. "So, you know my history. Kill me, if you want."

"I'm okay. You living is your own punishment. I've done enough to know that look in your eyes. You punish yourself more than I ever could."

Shiro looked him in the eyes, gaze long and hard. It chilled Keith to the bone. "You're not like other Slayers I've known. You seem...older."

Keith pushed himself off the ground, letting the swing carry his weight. He wished this was some normal meeting. He was sure his mother wouldn't approve of _this_ particular relationship. Not that she knew what he was, or would ever know. "I was chosen when I was eleven. The Slayer before me died in a car crash. It was unexpected, and sudden. I killed my first vampire in sixth grade. Kind of makes you grow up fast." It erased the entire childhood he was supposed to have. He was the youngest Slayer in history. Boy, wasn't he lucky.

Shiro's hand met his, and their fingers intertwined. For some reason, Keith didn't pull away. He didn't want to. "You were the kid who's Watcher..."

Keith looked down into his lap, but still held Shiro's hand firmly. The stake settled in between his thighs. He remembers all the blood on himself. He remembers the way it looked swirling down the drain. He remembers spending hours scrubbing it off his shower floor. "I was thirteen. The Master rose. He was so strong, stronger than any vampire I've fought, and I wasn't ready. I wasn't fast enough. She died because of me. I've met my new Watcher, but I can't face him. I don't want to." His voice sounded wet and he pushed the tears down. He didn't need to cry right now. It would be a good time for a vampire to show up so he could kill it instead of indulge in his feelings.

Instead, he looked towards Shiro. His eyes were beautiful in the moonlight. Everything about him was beautiful. Kuro, he used to be called. When he used to kill anything with a heartbeat. He could see why so many people fell under his spell, with that angelic face. Kuro, a force to be reckoned with, was now Shiro, the vampire with a soul. "At the Garrison last week. You tried to tell me something. What was it?" He reigned his emotions in and changed the subject. The past had no need to be dwelled on.

"I'm here to warn you, Keith. Your Watcher can tell you more than I can, but something is wrong with Altea. I can feel it, and I know you can, too. Something draws us here, and something is coming."

"What? What's coming?"

Shiro let his hand fall and stood, straightening his jacket. "It's a legend well before my time. The demon Zarkon was said to have resided here. He called humanity a plague, and only let pure evil lurk around him. It's said that now, should he be resurrected, it would bring the apocalypse. Even The Master would have bowed to him."

Keith's hand froze from sliding up and down the chain. "My Watcher, he'll know more?"

"Watchers have been around since the beginning of Slayers. Their journals and diaries go back centuries. If anyone knows about it, it'll be him. Go to him, Keith." Shiro started to walk off, mixing himself with the shadows that surrounded them.

"Wait! Will I see you again?"

"Go to bed, Slayer, and maybe I'll see you at the Garrison tomorrow night."

And then he was gone.

***

The bell signaling the end of History woke Keith up from his dreamless sleep. A couple of people around him snickered at the way he shot up. Thankfully, the teacher didn't notice. Either that, or he really didn't care. It was time for lunch, anyway. He had avoided Coran during his free, but he knew he couldn't put it off any longer. The library doors stared at him like the gates of hell. 

Keith pushed them open and was surprised to see he wasn't the only one there. Lance, Hunk, and Pidge were all sitting at the table in the middle of the open floor, books in front of them. Next to Hunk sat at least a dozen stakes, and considering the cuts on all their fingers, he figured they must've made them all. 

Everyone looked at him when he walked in. Coran bounded out of his office, books in hand. "Ah, yes, Keith! I'm glad you came! I was worried I had the wrong person pegged as the Slayer! I'm afraid we need to have a small talk about keeping your secret identity, well...secret." Not so subtly, his eyes landed on the trio who sat reading books that were clearly not on the school approved list.

"It wasn't his fault," Lance said. His turtleneck covered up the remains of the bite. "He saved my life. Hunk and Pidge saw. He kinda had to give it up."

"Right, then. You three understand that you cannot tell a single living soul about Keith and his responsibilities."

"Yes, we understand, Coran." It was Pidge who spoke. Her voice was lazy and bored, like she had been told this 100 times over already. "We just wanted to say sorry. In our own way. So we made you these." She gestured to the stakes, a proud smile on her face.

Keith stared at them. He'd never really had friends before, not with his past history. He'd also never really had anyone to talk to about slaying. It was a pretty solitude career. As he knew, anyone who was too close had a good chance of dying. Even them, he knew, would be targeted because of him. He decided to bring that up later. "Th-thanks. I really appreciate it. Those things are a bitch to whittle."

"Tell me about it," Lance groaned, looking sadly at the multitude of band-aids on his fingers.

"Hey," Hunk said, putting down a crossbow. "Coran and I have been doing some research, and I think we found why Altea is so weird."

Coran perked up at that, slamming a book down on the table, making everyone jump. "Yes, yes! I went back to Altea's foundation, and the people who founded it. Before humans settled in, this was a place for the unholy. It was mostly made up of vampires and other demons. Somewhere along the line, enough of them died to create some sort of aura around this place, and opened up a Hellmouth. Which means, the supernatural is drawn here."

Keith leaned forward to look at the book. It was written in Latin, something he wasn't great at translating. Give him French any day over that stuff. "How unfair is this?" Keith sighed, slamming the book closed. "Haven't I slayed enough vampires? Haven't I done my civic duty? I just want to fail math like every other kid."

"Keith, you have an A in math. You're actually failing history."

"Pidge! Looking at other people's grades without permission is rude!" Hunk snapped, glowering at his friend.

"Eh, I egged her. It's me you should be mad at," Lance smiled back, knowing Hunk wouldn't stay mad at him. A lot of people avoided him just because of his sheer size, but Hunk was really just a giant teddy bear. A monster in the gym, yet still a teddy bear. Seriously, he could out lift Lance any day, but kill a spider? Never!

"You two... I swear, some day you two are gonna get locked up for your shenanigans and I won't be there to bail you out," Hunk huffed, but a smile was clear on his face. It wasn't hard to see how much love he had for these two people. 

"Right. A Hellmouth," Keith said, drawing attention back to the important things. "So, this means more things with pointy teeth?"

Coran looked down at a book, his finger landing on some gruesome image. His face turned more somber than Keith would have liked. The look of Coran without a smile unsettled him, and he had only known the guy two weeks. "I'm afraid, Keith, that it means a bit more of everything." He picked up a few books and put them in a pile before taking them all in his hands.

The mood in the room had changed. Everyone's smiles slowly slipped off their faces as they all realized what being a friend of the Slayer meant, and what _being_ a Slayer meant. It meant only they knew the true danger everyone was in, and only they knew how to stop it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this chapter feel free to comment/kudos, it's appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy! For once I'm not updating at an ungodly hour. Also, I graduated from high school this week! No more GPA for me kiddos, god bless.

Everything hurt.

His side. His head. His ankle might've been snapped in two. Dust covered him like a second skin. 

Coran had told him to pick up patrols. Put on extra hours, work just a little harder. He had done more patrols in the last month than he had in four back in L.A. That night, he had wandered across an abandoned mausoleum. It was old and crumbling, forgotten through time. It looked like the cemetery had expanded and left it behind. Which, of course, were perfect hiding grounds.

There had been a nest, and he was suddenly glad he told the others to stay home. He could hardly protect himself, let alone three others, no matter how much he sometimes wanted to strangle Lance. Now, he laid on the ground, too injured to get up. One of the vamps had let out one last kick before they dusted, likely breaking his ribs.

He couldn't breathe. Not right. Not deep enough. It felt like he was drowning. The binder he was wearing. It had grown too small, and the Velcro wouldn't hold. So he safety pinned it shut. His fingers were too numb to undo it. His chest heaved. He couldn't be wearing this. He shouldn't even be wearing it while patrolling but, God, he _had_ to. He felt wrong without it. He was a dumbass.

His vision blurred at the edges. At least he had gotten all of them. They couldn't harm Hunk's sweet smile or Pidge's skillful hands. They couldn't hurt his mother's adoring eyes or Lance's beautiful skin. He had gotten the bad guys. That was his job, right? To catch them? He couldn't think anymore. His entire side felt like it was on fire. 

"Keith! Hey, Keith, stay with me!"

The voice sounded familiar. It sounded like it was a million miles away. He was slipping. He swirled into the dark. Swirling, swirling, swirling, like water down a drain. 

And then it coughed him back up.

He awoke on a bed. It was not his bed. This set off alarms in his brain to _move_. He tried to sit up, but every time he took in more than a moderate breath his right side flared in pain and his head pounded. The memories of fighting until his knuckles bled came back. There had been at least eight of them, and he got them all. Not many managed to get away from a determined Slayer. 

He must've made some sort of noise, because in seconds, Shiro was in the room. A very shirtless Shiro. Keith took no shame in drinking in the sight before him. God, that man was beautiful. "Slow down there," Shiro smiled, holding a cup of water in his hands. "You're still healing."

And damn if that smile didn't make a feeling stir low in his gut. "I heal fast," Keith said back, pushing himself up and against the headboard. "Where am I?"

Shiro handed him the glass and sat in a chair next to the bed. It didn't look terribly comfortable. Keith didn't say anything. "My place. I'm not...I can't go to yours, and I thought your mother might get worried if she got a call from the hospital."

Keith thought of his mom, rushing out of work to come get him over some stupid fight. He thought about the way she would probably cry. His mother never liked to cry, and she definitely didn't do it often. He didn't want to be the one who put tears on her face. That was his father's job. "Right. Good call." He took a sip of water. It felt heavenly.

"You had a close call there. Two broken ribs, a busted face. You look like a Picasso."

"It'll heal by morning. It always does." Countless nights he had come home broken and bruised just to sleep it off. The pain of breaking a bone never got easier, but over time he learned to set them by himself. Not like he needed a cast. He guessed he was lucky, for that. That Slayers healed abnormally fast.

"Keith, I..."

Before he could finish, Keith let out a bitter laugh. As if Shiro could ignore the piece of cloth cutting off his breathing. As if Keith hadn't felt it was off from the moment he woke up. "I know you want to ask. I know you were wondering why I don't look like any of the other Slayers."

"I won't ask if you don't want to tell."

"How considerate." The words felt dry on his tongue. All he could think about was that, if Shiro had been Kuro, he probably wouldn't care about anything Keith was. He would have just seen him as another blood bag. Maybe he wanted that version, just a little. 

"I had to take it off. It was compressing your airways too much. I'm sorry." The word sounded like it didn't come from that mouth often.

"Not your fault. It's the damn higher powers or whoever the fuck picked me. They did this. I know the fucking legends. I know the rituals. Into every generation, a Slayer is born. She alone can stop the demons and vampires, yada yada, save the world. I _know_."

Shiro doesn't say anything. He just takes Keith's hand. It's become some sort of ritual between them. Shiro always seems to know when Keith needs to talk and be heard, and Keith always accepts the extended hand. In return, Keith pretends he doesn't notice the flecks of blood Shiro misses when cleaning up, and the smell of animal death on his words. At least he isn't drinking from a human source.

"And when I was eleven, I didn't know about me yet. I wasn't one of those kids who popped out of the fucking womb knowing. It took _time._ Someone up there must have have known and decided to choose me anyway. Fuck them! Now I just sit here in a fucking reminder of what I should be and how wrong I am. My body was born to be a Slayer, but I wasn't. I'm not a girl, I'm not! But I'm here, in the legacy of women and their strength! All because of some stupid, fucking transphobic, higher power prick!" He was breathing hard by the time he finished, hand clutching Shiro's harder than me meant to. His side burned with every inhale.

Shiro leaned back and cupped their fingers together. He had a small smile on his face and Keith kind of wanted to slap it. "You're a Slayer if I've ever seen one, Keith," he said, settling on the chair's wooden back. "But it's time you started your own legacy. The higher powers don't make mistakes, and they don't take things back. If they picked you, it's because they knew you would change the world with your calling. You're a boy, Keith, and a Slayer. You started your own heritage the moment you were born. And who knows? Maybe somewhere down the line, there'll be another Slayer like you, and they'll look back, and not feel so alone in their journey."

Keith laughed, wiping away the few tears that had managed to escape. The salt stung the open cuts on his face. "That was an awfully good pep talk from someone I was born to kill."

"Let's not get the pointy wooden things out yet. Just get some rest. You need it." Shiro stood, starting to put the covers over Keith.

The younger boy put his hand over the vampire's, stopping his motions. "Hey, Shiro?" His voice was thick and slow as he succumbed to the exhaustion washing over him.

"Yeah?"

"We should get coffee some night."

"That sounds good. You just rest now. Go to sleep."

"Mhm. Okay." He turned onto his uninjured side, arm sliding around his torso to protect it.

Shiro sighed and moved the chair farther away from the bed. Keith wasn't like any other Slayer he had met, and he had met a few. Back in his old days, he even killed one, but that wasn't something Keith needed to know about. Now, in his shoddy apartment, Keith looked like just a normal boy. A normal boy with the whole world on his shoulders. 

He could hear the blood pumping through Keith's veins, and the beating of his heart. Shiro was hyper aware of every noise Keith made. It was dangerous. Keith was dangerous. He shouldn't get too close, he knew, but he wanted to. Before Keith, he hadn't touched anyone in years. Maybe it had been centuries. Time mixes together when you live through all of it.

Depraved of sunlight, forced to live beneath humans, and stripped of the arrogance that made him evil, Shiro felt lost. He had humanity in him in the form of a soul. He felt sorrow for the things he had done and guilt for the lives he had taken. He was a broken vampire, and that was a fact he couldn't fix. 

Keith's stirring caught his attention and he looked up, only to see the boy roll over and bury himself deeper into the blankets. Sunrise would be coming soon. Keith had school. _School_. Must have really improved since his days. Hey, kids don't get the plague and die anymore so that's an improvement. He had seen the rise of humanity and the fall of the stock market. He had seen indoor plumbing come into fruition and was he glad for that one. 

Shiro sniffed the air. Keith had stopped bleeding. The cuts were probably closed by now. He sat back in his chair, watching, waiting, for anything to try and take this boy away. He wouldn't let them. There was something about Keith, just _something_ , that made Shiro feel a little more human. 

He decided that for now, he was okay with that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nyello! I just want to thank everyone who's taken an interest in my fic <3 I love you all. Some updates here!! I've started tracking the tag "Lost in Blood" on tumblr so if you wanna dump anything in there please feel free! You can also come scream at me (@noyaplease).

Keith stared hard at his homework. He was sitting in the uncomfortable library chairs, feet propped on the table, and staring at his Spanish homework like the thing would translate itself. He really shouldn't have taken on two languages at once. 

"It says, 'The last image his mother had of him was of his fleeting passage through the bedroom.' What're you reading, anyway?" Lance translated, peering over Keith's shoulder. 

" _Chronicle of a Death Foretold_. I would have probably enjoyed it if I didn't have to read it for school. And if it was in any other language." Keith glared at the book and marked the translation down in his notes. It's not like the book they were reading for French was any better. _Mr. Ibrahim and the Flowers of the Koran_. It was a very depressing book. Happy ending, depressing everything else. If anything, at least he understood French a lot better, and he was good at translation work. 

Lance spotted the French book on the table, open and marked up with Keith's notes. "Damn, you have to read all that? I'm only in French 3, and we're reading _Choc de Culture_. It's so dumb and I don't really understand it." Lance groaned and flung himself onto a chair, being dramatic, as always. "I wish I took Spanish. Easy A."

"Lance, what does _cofre_ mean?"

"Chest."

"I thought that was _pecho_?"

Lance sighed and turned towards Keith. His feet landed in Keith's lap and his body slumped in the chair so he was almost laying down. " _Pecho_ is like, this chest." He rubbed his hands over his pectorals to signal the area. "But _cofre_ is a chest you open. Like a treasure chest or something."

"Oh. Thanks." He marked it down and moved on, pretending he knew what the words were. Some of them were cognates with French and English, which made it easier, but some of it was completely foreign.

Lance raised an eyebrow and looked at the pen moving over Keith's pages. "You're really interested in languages, aren't you?" He had to kind of admire that. He took advantage of being bilingual, and how much easier it was to learn new languages because of it. He never realized how much harder it was for monolingual people who had never really been exposed to a constant second language. It kind of baffled him sometimes. It was the first rule in the handbook. To learn a language, you have to _think_ in that language, or at least try to. Yet it seemed to take people years to figure that out. 

"Yeah," Keith said, finally giving up on the book. "It's what I want to do. I want to translate books and stuff. Or, I wanted to, at least."

Lance didn't know how to respond to that. What do you say to someone who's entire career path was thrown aside because of duties they would never be recognized or paid for? "Well, let's make a deal," Lance smiled, leaning up. He took his feet off Keith and looked at the book sitting dejectedly on the table. "How about I help you with Spanish, and you help me with French? Deal?"

Keith's head perked up and looked at Lance's awaiting hand. He shook it. "Deal."

Just then, the library doors burst open, Hunk and Pidge coming in with big smiles on their faces. "Hunk, quick!" Pidge yelled. "Take a photo! It's history! They're actually getting along!"

The smile dropped off Keith's face. "Stuff it," Keith glowered, taking his hand out of Lances and putting his homework away. "What're you doing here, anyway? Don't you guys have class right now?"

Hunk snorted. "Please. The engineering class here is a joke. Mr. Almstead pretty much lets us do whatever we want. Including getting a pass to the library to research our next project. You guys have frees right now?"

Lance smiled up at his boyfriend, clearly guilty. "Skipping gym."

"Lance." The tone in Hunk's voice was almost motherly.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll go tomorrow. Just tired today. Up late last night with a shoot."

"I can't believe the schedules those guys have you on," Hunk sighed, pulling up a chair next to his boyfriend. He placed his bag down on the floor with a _thump_ and sat back. "They know you have school, right?"

"Back up. Shoot? What?" Keith was utterly lost.

"Oh, I'm a model. I thought you knew. Just small stuff, but the pay is good and I get free clothes sometimes."

Keith wasn't surprised. Lance's beauty was apparent. "Sounds tough."

"Please. It's a dream compared to what you do." Lance sat back and somehow twisted himself so his head laid on Hunk's lap, his body on the chair, and his feet on the table. It looked painful. 

"Trust me, I'm not doing the camera any favors." Keith packed away his books and took his feet off the table. "Coran!" he called, going towards the office. "We still on for weapons training tonight?"

Coran looked up from his pile of books, hair just a bit crazier than normal. His fingers were scanning over lines of texts as his eyes raced to keep up with them. "Yes, yes. Stop by after school."

Keith nodded and turned back towards his friends. Pidge was just coming back out of the stacks with an armload of books. She looked quite pleased. "Keith, little help here," she wheezed.

Keith dropped his bag and took half the books from her. "Damn, what're you reading here? These things weigh a ton."

"Surprise! Hunk and I are trying to create a weapon for you."

"Me?"

Hunk pushed Lance off him and stood, taking the other half of books from Pidge and plopping them on the table. "Yes, you," Hunk smiled, pulling out a blueprint from his bag. "It's supposed to be a self-aiming crossbow, you just have to pull the trigger. Kind of like a missile but for vampires."

Pidge pushed her way to the front and pointed at the schematics. There are some few tweaks here and there, but we've already started building it in shop! It should be ready by next week."

Keith raised an eyebrow. "You're making this in school? What are you gonna say it's for?"

"Please," Pidge scoffed, rolling up the blueprint once again and shoving it in Hunk's backpack. "Mr. Almstead doesn't pay attention to us. He just kind of gives Hunk and I A's and hopes we don't attract the attention of the FBI...again."

"Again!"

Hunk laughed and opened up a book, find the page he wanted before speaking. "Pidge once hacked into an FBI database for one of her projects. They showed up at the school by tracing the IP address. Mr. Almstead nearly crapped himself. It was kind of hilarious."

"Hey, I got grounded for a month. It wasn't so funny then." Yet Pidge still had a smile on her face as she talked.

Hunk smiled back and started pawing through the books, trying to find all the information they needed.

***

Cemeteries aren't the best place to take your friends. Especially cemeteries where things are rising out of the grave and trying to eat you. Even though Keith would feel better if his new trio were back at home, they insisted on coming along. 

Pidge fiddled with the last tweaks of the crossbow while she walked. Keith had waited two weeks for it as she and Hunk found multiple things to fix in the test run. Mostly because it's thermo-sensor was supposed to focus on things that are moving and _cold_ not hot. Hunk nearly had a date with his early grave because of that one. 

Lance found a bench to sit on and promptly sat down, cross in hand. He wasn't going anywhere near the upturned dirt. He even winced when Keith mentioned vampires and put his hand to his neck. "I am staying right here. Away from the action. My manager already killed me for the bruising. I had to blame it on Hunk. Sorry, babe."

Keith rolled his eyes and took out his stake. He was going to fight the old fashioned way, and when Pidge was ready, she would yell for him to move out the way. It didn't take long for Frank Levitino to rise from his grave. The moon hung high in the sky, casting a pale light onto his grave. Keith watched his hand reach the top first, clawing at the dirt beneath.

He supposed he shared the fear of every Slayer before him. He feared becoming the prey he so mercilessly hunted. He feared waking up in a coffin. He watched as that hand slowly gave way to a wrist, and then a forearm, and then a torso, and suddenly a body was before him, standing, growling with inhuman capacity. The thing in front of him wasn't Frank Levitino, the warm and caring banker, but the monster who took his place. Keith would show him no mercy.

When a vampire first wakes, its first instinct is to feed. If it has any sort of smarts, its first instinct is to pray on what it conceives as the weakest being to ensure a first gulp of blood. Which is why it goes directly for Lance, who has his eyes turned away from the sight. Hunk is the first one to reach him and grab him out of the way, pulling him into the trees. 

Keith jump kicks the vampire, forcing it onto its knees. "I'm the one you want!" he yells, kicking it again. "I'm the Slayer. You want my blood, not his!" He kicks again, except Frank catches his foot this time, and brings him to the ground. Good. That's what he wanted. He wanted to roll around until Pidge had enough time to gear up the new weapon. 

They went back on forth, flipping sides and rolling over each other. Keith could feel the dirt in his hair. It was caked deep into his nails, blood running down his shoulder, where the vampire had tried to bite him. It was to close to his neck for comfort. "Pidge!" he yelled, just barely missing fangs. "Hurry up!"

He pushed Frank off him and jumped up, blocking a punch that came his way. 

He heard Pidge fumbling with something or other before shouting, "Ready! I'm pulling the trigger!" 

He heard her pull the trigger, and then he felt an arrow enter his leg. He crumpled to the floor, quickly pulling it out before his body could heal around it. Frank laughed at him. "Little Slayer have an ouchie?" he mocked.

Keith finished pulling out the arrow and thrust it into Frank's heart. The dust fell to grass. "At least mine will heal," he sneered, dusting himself off. Hunk was there to lend his support, allowing Keith to put all his weight on him. For that, he was thankful. 

Pidge came running up beside them, near tears in her eyes. "Keith! I'm so sorry, I didn't expect it to do that. It must have sensed a cold spot on you! I'll fidget with it some more. I'm so sorry."

Keith couldn't help it. He was angry. His leg hurt, those were a new pair of jeans, and he was _angry_. "It's not a game, Pidge! I've told all of you, this isn't something to fucking mess around with! Your fuck ups can cause me to _die_. Next time, stay out of it." He pulled himself out of Hunk's grip and turned around, deciding to alk in the other direction as the rest of his friends. He needed to cool down. 

He hurt Pidge, he knew. He hurt Pidge and in turn probably made the others mad, but they were toying around with weapons while every time he got into a fight with a vampire he had the chance of dying. Dying just to be replaced by another Slayer waiting for her destiny. _Her_.

Keith kicked the dirt. A patch of grass came up with it and he kicked it again, watching it go across the field he was in. He had been a Slayer, _the_ Slayer, for six years. The universe expected him to save it time and time again. The universe fell to pieces and only Keith had the glue to put it back together.

He kept saving it, but for once, Keith wished the universe would save him back. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments/kudos are appreciated and I appreciate all of you. Have a lovely weekend!


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